


my heart is a weapon

by morganoconner



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fix-It, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Slash, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-10
Updated: 2017-06-10
Packaged: 2018-11-12 07:07:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11156796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morganoconner/pseuds/morganoconner
Summary: There aren't many left who Gabriel can rely on for help when he needs it the most, but there is at least one.





	my heart is a weapon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [enchantersnight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/enchantersnight/gifts).



> This is set smack dab in between 5.19 and 5.20.
> 
> I experienced _such joy_ writing this. I don't think I realized how much I missed Gabriel until I sat down to think up a new story for him. Thank you so much, enchantersnight, for giving me a reason and the inspiration to revisit these boys. I truly hope you enjoy this, although it ended up...uh...very slash-lite. I'm sorry for that! I tried, but they just weren't having it. I suspect some angsting in their future about ~feelings. ;)
> 
> Many thanks to maybemalapert and cashay for beta-reading and holding my hand as I freaked out about my ability to still write these boys. ♥

It takes Crowley four days to finally make his way to the Elysian Fields Hotel, and it's not like Gabriel expected him immediately or anything, but he sure expected him sooner than _four days_. He saw Crowley's little listening coin planted in the Impala, okay? He knows Crowley heard every word of his "goodbye message", but it still takes the demon bastard four whole days to finally saunter in like he owns the place. The only reason Gabriel doesn’t smite him right there (okay, well, not the _only_ reason but definitely the most important, and he’s sticking to that story) is because Crowley actually seems worried, at least from what Gabriel can read of his energy as he prowls around the hotel.

When he finally enters the last meeting place of the gods and sees Gabriel sitting propped against the overturned table, he’s gone from worried to actually, legitimately scared. (Crowley never _looks_ anything except smarmy, but Gabriel's practiced at reading between the lines with anybody and he's an expert on Crowley at this point. That's definitely Crowley's scared smarminess.)

“Took you long enough,” Gabriel mutters, and tries not to feel warmed by the relief that smooths out the almost imperceptible crevice that’s formed between Crowley’s brows.

“You know, I was starting to think that tosser really had offed you,” Crowley says, crouching down beside Gabriel and surveying him from head to toe. “But you look to be in one piece." He punctuates this observation with a raised brow, and silent question mark.

“Sure,” Gabriel says. It comes out sounding bitter, and that crease between Crowley’s brows returns full-force.

“And yet here we are. So what are you still doing here, angel?” It's a fair question. Gabriel wishes he could just say he was grieving, still mourning the gods Lucifer took his wrath out on, the gods who'd taken Gabriel in (even if they hadn’t really known it) when he was at his lowest, the gods who’d become his found family millennia ago. And while he _is_ mourning, it's not the biggest issue here.

Instead of replying, Gabriel waves a hand toward the room at large, and even that small movement is enough to sap what little energy he has. “Go see for yourself.”

Crowley eyes him for a moment, then stands, hands shoved in the pockets of his trousers. Gabriel watches as he finally takes in the entirety of the room he’d stepped into. Watches his eyes finally land on the floor, on the ash and the burn marks that will be branded there for as long as the building stands. Understanding lights his dark eyes, and he whirls back to face Gabriel with his mouth gaping. “You—” Crowley stops, apparently at a loss for words. Any other day, Gabriel would be smug about rendering the King of the Crossroads speechless. Today, not so much.

“I had to sell it,” he says tiredly. He closes his eyes and leans his head back against the table. “The most believable trick is the one that isn’t entirely a trick.” He tries to shrug, winces when it causes pain to shoot up and down his spine. Everything is pain lately; you'd think he'd be used to it by now. “Lucy taught me everything I know. Including that.”

“But, you, he—” Crowley sputters, and Gabriel isn’t sure when he knelt down again but suddenly there’s a hand on his shoulder, and it feels cool and soothing even through two layers of clothing.

“In the grand scheme of things,” Gabriel offers, “it didn’t seem like such a big sacrifice.” It’s the truth, but it feels like a lie. Or maybe it's a lie he knows _should_ be the truth. Whatever.

“They were your _wings!_ ” Crowley shouts, and it shatters the tomb-like silence of the place in a way their quieter talking hadn't. It makes Gabriel shudder.

“Yeah. Hadn’t noticed that, thanks.” He opens his eyes to slits so he can glare at Crowley. “Not only is that pointing out the obvious, but I'd also say that's really kicking a man while he's down. Tacky even for you, C.”

Crowley gapes at him, and Gabriel gives up this feeble pretense of strength with a sigh. “What else was I supposed to do? Let him kill me for real?”

Visibly hesitating, Crowley eventually says, very carefully, “Imagine that might’ve hurt less.”

Gabriel snorts. “Well…you’re not wrong. Speaking of, need your help.” He struggles to sit up and is held firmly in place by Crowley's hand. The fact that a demon is stronger than he is right now burns Gabriel deep, but at least this demon is a friend. Kind of. Most of the time.

(It's not weird, okay. After centuries of Crowley's clients overlapping with Gabriel's targets because, let's face it, it was usually the high and mighty who wanted to be _higher and mightier_ …well, after so many arguments about Gabriel fucking up Crowley's deals, or Crowley's deals fucking up Gabriel's fun, it was probably inevitable they'd just learn to put up with each other, that something like friendship would take root long before the archangel revelation happened. It's not weird. It's _not_.)

"How many favors are you going to owe me for this?" Crowley asks.

"A lot," Gabriel assures him.

"Bloody fantastic," Crowley mutters. "Is it something likely to get me killed?"

"Nope!" Gabriel gives him a wide, guileless smile that he's pretty sure would fool _nobody_ , and definitely doesn't fool the demon in front of him, judging by the dry look he gets back. He slumps, sighing. "Look, Crowley, buddy, I'm…bleeding grace. You can't see it but it's pretty bad. I need someone to cauterize the wound, and the only thing that can do that besides another angel is—"

"Hellfire," Crowley finishes darkly. "So it’s suicide you’re after, is it?"

" _No_ ," Gabriel growls. It doesn't come out as wrathful or as full of conviction as he wants, but he's not working at his best here. It gets the point across, regardless. "And also, screw you. My wings are gone and my family's at war and the world is probably gonna go down in flames but that doesn't mean I have a death wish, okay? I need help, and you're the only one I trust to do it _without_ killing me in the process.”

Crowley blinks at him. Clears his throat. “Well, why didn’t you just say so?” he finally says, with a long-suffering sigh like _Gabriel_ is the problem here. “Honestly.”

"My mistake," Gabriel grouses. "So? Can you help?"

Crowley sighs again, a less dramatic one this time. A capitulation. There's no way he _wants_ to do this, but he will, Gabriel knows it even before Crowley says, "I'll help. Suppose we can wait to talk repayment until you can stand again." He doesn't wait for so much as a by-your-leave before moving to shift Gabriel away from the table, forcing Gabriel to bite back several colorful swears and possibly an actual yelp as agony rips up his back and through his grace.

"Warn a guy, will you?" he hisses from behind clenched teeth when he can catch his breath again. Crowley murmurs something to him, but it's lost in the white-hot burn of trying to hold himself up, which doesn't even work anyway. He ends up practically in an embrace where they're kneeling on the floor, Crowley winding an arm around Gabriel's shoulders and whispering something that causes his shirt and jacket to fall away like ash.

It's a shame. He liked that jacket, and who knows when he'll be able to snap himself up a new one.

"Hush, angel," Crowley says, and Gabriel turns to glare at him, a ready quip on his tongue that dies at the sight of the shadows forming around Crowley, of the flames kindling in his steady gaze. "This is going to hurt, you realize." He speaks softly, in that low, gravelly voice of his, and it's an honest warning. A chance for Gabriel to change his mind, but he can't. He made his choice, and while death might be easier than living like…this, he's going to live. He's going to keep standing up to his brothers for the sake of humanity. He's done hiding.

"I know," is all he says.

Crowley nods, and reaches with his free hand to card surprisingly gentle fingers into Gabriel's hair, guiding him down until his face is pressed into Crowley's shoulder, all his weight now supported by the demon. His other hand is pressed between Gabriel's shoulder blades, and for a few seconds, it actually feels good, the cool pressure where the physical pain is the worst.

But then the cool skin of Crowley's hand doesn't feel cool anymore, it feels warm, and then uncomfortably warm, and then hot. Gabriel fights to keep himself from shaking as it starts to burn. The skin of his physical form blisters first, and then it goes deeper, to his core, his grace, and _Father_ but he's never felt pain like this before. He tries to stay silent and still, but can't stop the whimpers from escaping, and before they can erupt into screams that could very well kill the demon saving his life, he bites down hard on Crowley's suit-covered shoulder, digs the fingers of one hand into the ground and the other into Crowley's hip.

Crowley doesn't so much as flinch, just keeps his hand pressed against Gabriel, whispering something in a dark, sibilant language that might make Gabriel cringe if his whole being wasn't alight with fierce torment right now.

It has to be over soon, it has to be, Gabriel can't survive much more of this as weak as he already is, but he forces himself to breathe through it and keep himself tethered, and finally, _finally_ Crowley's grip relaxes, and his hand is beginning to cool again as he pulls it away from Gabriel's scorched flesh.

"There you are, now, just breathe," Crowley murmurs. In several hundred years, Gabriel's never heard him sound like this before. Like he wants to comfort. Like he actually cares. It does…something to Gabriel's insides, something squirmy he can't really think about right now. "You did well, angel, you did very well. No accidental smiting, I'm very impressed."

 _Asshole_ , Gabriel thinks fondly. He tries to laugh, but it sounds broken. He still can't bring himself to move, exhausted in ways that are unfamiliar and a little terrifying, but at least Crowley doesn't appear to be in any rush for him to do so.

"It worked, yes?" Crowley asks after a long moment of petting Gabriel's hair. "Hard to tell when I can't actually see what I'm trying to fix."

"It worked," Gabriel tells him. He has to work his jaw for a second to get the words out right, after it's been clenched so tightly. He's pretty sure he drew blood on the demon from biting so hard, but he won't ask and he knows Crowley won't tell. "Staunched the flow of grace just like I said. My strength should start coming back now." Slowly, probably, because _Hellfire_ and also because he lost so damn much of his grace when he burned out his wings and in the time that passed since. The waiting is going to suck. But it _will_ come back, even if he'll never be what he once was.

There's a twisted irony there, actually, one Gabriel can almost appreciate. He smothered his grace for millennia, kept his wings carefully contained so he could stay hidden, cut off from his family.

And now…

"Stop thinking so loud, you're giving me a headache," Crowley mutters. "What do you say we blow this joint, hmm? I've got a cozy bed infested with rat droppings in a hovel that may well fall down around your ears. Sounds like paradise, wouldn't you say?"

"Sure does," Gabriel says on a sigh, and manages a wobbly grin for Crowley when he gets a derisive snort in return. "You're, um. You're going to have to get me there." No more flying.

Ever.

"Don't worry, angel, I didn't risk being burned extra crispy just to leave you to rot." Crowley's hand finds his shoulder again, and then strokes down his arm to curve around his elbow. "Chin up. When you've got some strength back, I'll teach you to walk through shadows. Much classier way to travel."

"Stop trying to cheer me up, it's weird." But Gabriel _is_ cheered, somehow, and barely even notices they've changed locale until he feels a cool draft and finds himself reclining back against a dingy mattress that honest-to-Dad feels _heavenly_. He wants to open his eyes and take a look around at whatever hideaway Crowley's managed to secure himself, but he's so tired, and his back still hurts so much. He should look at it, see how bad the burn scars are where his wings used to be, but he doesn't want to. Maybe later. Maybe…

"Sleep," Crowley says, and smooths a hand through Gabriel's hair in a way that makes him sigh and burrow into the pillow he's resting on.

"Wait." Gabriel fights to open his eyes and sit up again, suddenly remembering the other favor he was going to ask, and it's important, not something that can wait no matter how exhausted he is. "The W—" He's cut off when Crowley shushes him and eases him back.

"I know, a demon's work is never done and you'll owe me for the rest of eternity, but I've got your pet Winchesters covered, all right?" He sounds somehow amused rather than annoyed, which is better than Gabriel had hoped for. "Now _sleep_ , angel."

"Fine," Gabriel tries to mumble, but it comes out pretty much a garbled mess of a word, and he doesn't even have the energy to be put out at the amused sound Crowley makes.

And then Gabriel is drifting into a sleep he's never needed, watched over by a demon he shouldn't trust, in a world he almost died to protect.

His last thought is that, so long as he has anything to say about it, this will not be the end of his story.

This will be the beginning.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm currently desperately fundraising for college, after recently being accepted to the University of Pittsburgh (!!!!!!)...if anyone is interested in commissioning me, more information can be found [here](http://morganoconner.tumblr.com/post/160403536512/all-of-my-past-work-can-be-found-here-my)! ♥
> 
> The title for this came from the new Hanson song _I Was Born_ , which is MY NEW FAVORITE JAM. Sorry not sorry. :D


End file.
